D
Deleted member 36
Guest
I have often thought whilst fishing the Avon, back to memories past, how the river can provide the unexpected. Moments when just sitting there idly allowing time its thing, and being almost empty of thought, when all hell has broken loose and you are in a situation landing something wholly unforeseen, or viewing perhaps something you'd never thought your eyes would gaze at.
Yesterday provided two of those moments;
I arrived on the river late in the morning. Strange now I think about it that I most likely wouldn't have been there at all were it not for me allowing myself my own peculiarity. I had decided earlier in the morning to go out on the mountain bike for a blast around the New Forest. I was in fact all ready for the off; heart rate monitor on, cycling garb on, all that was left to do was to pump up the tyres. Then, inexplicably almost, decided I didn't fancy it, took it all off and went fishing.
After having been to the bakers in Ringwood for my favoured tuna salad in a baguette with accompanying dorset apple cake for afters, I was walking along the banks looking for likely looking spots at around 11ish. Savouring being on the banks of this river again - its striking how issues at heart beforehand seemingly melt into obscurity after a very short while - I noticed a large number of swans, around 30 odd, peacefully and idyllically making their way downstream. Suddenly, something obviously upset one of them and I could see this bird becoming really quite boisterous. Initially I thought it had been spooked by something that appeared to be swimming underneath it, though quite what it was I had no idea. What I saw as the bird came closer to me I could really only describe as being a mirror image of the bird being reflected by the surface of the water. Quite bright in colour, it looked like whatever was under the water had that oily sheen to it, and initially thought, OTTER! Now, almost under my feet, I could very clearly see what was creating this strange vision - one of the group of swans had clearly become upset with another individual and to evade capture, believe it or not, had resorted to swimming under the surface, about 3ft under! It came up just downstream of me with the immediate consequnce that it was bitten by the one chasing it. Having hold of it by his beak, with his body directly over the one below, it was trying to drown the bird underneath. A whole manner of thoughts went through my head. Sub-aqua swans - what on earth? How on earth does it propel itself? How much did I have to drink last night?
I walked downstream to a point below where they were combatting when momentarily the bird on top must have lost it's grip, or perhaps tried to get a better bite. This instantly gave the bird below the opportunity to make a break for it, and so it did. Coming again, directly underneath me I could very clearly see the feet of the swan splayed out, paddling quite vigorously. Neck outstretched, moving through the water with some simplicity, I would have barely kept up with it at a fast jogging pace. It might have done me in the pool too! 25 yds that bird swam underwater without coming up!
It eventually made it to an area of overhanging trees where the chasing bird couldn't access, and pressumably survived to tell the story.
I didn't hold up much hope of seeing any fish after that. The area in which I was isn't really renowned as a barbel catching area, but in went a few baits in a couple likely looking holes in the hope of spotting something after a short wander. Encouragingly however, when I came back to those spots there were some fish milling around. I decided to set up somewhere close and just enjoy the day.
I'd done that by the time the light had started fading. A nice chunky looking chub, a clonking dace and mottled gudgeon had all been admired as inherent parts of this wonderful place. The weather had been good with slightly cool winds, all be they fairly strong contrasting with a warm sun when it was out, and contributed to the feeling of having been quite a fulfilling day out. It didn't end there however;
Generally on the Avon, it's when the light starts fading that fish lose their cautiousness and tend to become confident in wandering the river the looking for discrded morsels thrown in by the departing anglers, that you can pick up a fish or two. Sat back waiting for what may come, I heard this bird call from pretty high up - perhaps 150ft up! I knew it as a heron, but it had a distressed note to it, sounding almost like it was injured and in pain perhaps. I looked at it carefully and noticed a difference to their normal flying shape - with a comapct wing and elongated neck - it was then I noticed a bird following it. Initially I thought it was a crow. Along the Avon Valley, buzzards are now in such numbers that you will struggle not to see one during a day there. They're often mobbed by the crows and rooks, but I'd never seen one mob a heron before. The pair seeming to break, the calls of the heron became less stressed and more with what we regularly hear. I looked down again and surveyed the rod, trying not to be taken by surprise, when the heron started making those distress calls again. I looked up to see that it had turned around 180 degrees and was still being closely follwed by this crow. What I then saw this crow do will probably not leave me; it pulled in it's wings and plummeted towards the ground at such a speed that it was difficult to keep an eye on it. Following it, as best I could, it's flight gradually levelled out to around 10ft above ground where upon, at real break-neck spead, it followed this line of trees. Everything in the vicinty was aware of it's presence, and three pigeons, startled by it movements, were lucky not to have been dinner for it.
Of course, I wasn't looking at a crow, it was the awe-inspiring Peregrine Falcon. After having just missed out on a pigeon the bird came to rest in a dead tree around 100yds behind. I quickly got the binoculars out, confirmed what it was and then was treated in spectacular fashion. The bird then flew from the tree, following the course of the river in a big loop and appeared to be on the look out for a takeaway big style. I have never heard a reaction like such to another animals presence in the valley. The noise was quite tremendous. Birds of all sizes were voicing in the highest degree their disapproval of the presence of this bird and it's path was not easy to see, but I knew where it was alright. It came to land back in another dead tree, again 100yds behind me, where it stayed for around twenty minutes or so. Fishing took a back seat for those twenty minutes. Infact, the largest barbel resident in the Avon might have dragged my rod in, and I'd not have noticed one bit.
I normally carry an SLR camera with 3 lenses with me when fishing, but I'd thought I'd travel a little lighter yesterday and didn't take it with me. I did however get this image.
Taken with my phone, viewed through my binoculars, its hardly a substitute...
And magnified...
Etched on the memory.
Yesterday provided two of those moments;
I arrived on the river late in the morning. Strange now I think about it that I most likely wouldn't have been there at all were it not for me allowing myself my own peculiarity. I had decided earlier in the morning to go out on the mountain bike for a blast around the New Forest. I was in fact all ready for the off; heart rate monitor on, cycling garb on, all that was left to do was to pump up the tyres. Then, inexplicably almost, decided I didn't fancy it, took it all off and went fishing.
After having been to the bakers in Ringwood for my favoured tuna salad in a baguette with accompanying dorset apple cake for afters, I was walking along the banks looking for likely looking spots at around 11ish. Savouring being on the banks of this river again - its striking how issues at heart beforehand seemingly melt into obscurity after a very short while - I noticed a large number of swans, around 30 odd, peacefully and idyllically making their way downstream. Suddenly, something obviously upset one of them and I could see this bird becoming really quite boisterous. Initially I thought it had been spooked by something that appeared to be swimming underneath it, though quite what it was I had no idea. What I saw as the bird came closer to me I could really only describe as being a mirror image of the bird being reflected by the surface of the water. Quite bright in colour, it looked like whatever was under the water had that oily sheen to it, and initially thought, OTTER! Now, almost under my feet, I could very clearly see what was creating this strange vision - one of the group of swans had clearly become upset with another individual and to evade capture, believe it or not, had resorted to swimming under the surface, about 3ft under! It came up just downstream of me with the immediate consequnce that it was bitten by the one chasing it. Having hold of it by his beak, with his body directly over the one below, it was trying to drown the bird underneath. A whole manner of thoughts went through my head. Sub-aqua swans - what on earth? How on earth does it propel itself? How much did I have to drink last night?
I walked downstream to a point below where they were combatting when momentarily the bird on top must have lost it's grip, or perhaps tried to get a better bite. This instantly gave the bird below the opportunity to make a break for it, and so it did. Coming again, directly underneath me I could very clearly see the feet of the swan splayed out, paddling quite vigorously. Neck outstretched, moving through the water with some simplicity, I would have barely kept up with it at a fast jogging pace. It might have done me in the pool too! 25 yds that bird swam underwater without coming up!
It eventually made it to an area of overhanging trees where the chasing bird couldn't access, and pressumably survived to tell the story.
I didn't hold up much hope of seeing any fish after that. The area in which I was isn't really renowned as a barbel catching area, but in went a few baits in a couple likely looking holes in the hope of spotting something after a short wander. Encouragingly however, when I came back to those spots there were some fish milling around. I decided to set up somewhere close and just enjoy the day.
I'd done that by the time the light had started fading. A nice chunky looking chub, a clonking dace and mottled gudgeon had all been admired as inherent parts of this wonderful place. The weather had been good with slightly cool winds, all be they fairly strong contrasting with a warm sun when it was out, and contributed to the feeling of having been quite a fulfilling day out. It didn't end there however;
Generally on the Avon, it's when the light starts fading that fish lose their cautiousness and tend to become confident in wandering the river the looking for discrded morsels thrown in by the departing anglers, that you can pick up a fish or two. Sat back waiting for what may come, I heard this bird call from pretty high up - perhaps 150ft up! I knew it as a heron, but it had a distressed note to it, sounding almost like it was injured and in pain perhaps. I looked at it carefully and noticed a difference to their normal flying shape - with a comapct wing and elongated neck - it was then I noticed a bird following it. Initially I thought it was a crow. Along the Avon Valley, buzzards are now in such numbers that you will struggle not to see one during a day there. They're often mobbed by the crows and rooks, but I'd never seen one mob a heron before. The pair seeming to break, the calls of the heron became less stressed and more with what we regularly hear. I looked down again and surveyed the rod, trying not to be taken by surprise, when the heron started making those distress calls again. I looked up to see that it had turned around 180 degrees and was still being closely follwed by this crow. What I then saw this crow do will probably not leave me; it pulled in it's wings and plummeted towards the ground at such a speed that it was difficult to keep an eye on it. Following it, as best I could, it's flight gradually levelled out to around 10ft above ground where upon, at real break-neck spead, it followed this line of trees. Everything in the vicinty was aware of it's presence, and three pigeons, startled by it movements, were lucky not to have been dinner for it.
Of course, I wasn't looking at a crow, it was the awe-inspiring Peregrine Falcon. After having just missed out on a pigeon the bird came to rest in a dead tree around 100yds behind. I quickly got the binoculars out, confirmed what it was and then was treated in spectacular fashion. The bird then flew from the tree, following the course of the river in a big loop and appeared to be on the look out for a takeaway big style. I have never heard a reaction like such to another animals presence in the valley. The noise was quite tremendous. Birds of all sizes were voicing in the highest degree their disapproval of the presence of this bird and it's path was not easy to see, but I knew where it was alright. It came to land back in another dead tree, again 100yds behind me, where it stayed for around twenty minutes or so. Fishing took a back seat for those twenty minutes. Infact, the largest barbel resident in the Avon might have dragged my rod in, and I'd not have noticed one bit.
I normally carry an SLR camera with 3 lenses with me when fishing, but I'd thought I'd travel a little lighter yesterday and didn't take it with me. I did however get this image.
Taken with my phone, viewed through my binoculars, its hardly a substitute...
And magnified...
Etched on the memory.
Last edited by a moderator:
